


Unsurprising

by lorielen (culuyetille)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-12
Updated: 2003-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culuyetille/pseuds/lorielen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SS/DM. Comfort fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsurprising

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Lilith, who awoke my long-asleep Severus muse, as well as bringing back to life the Sev/Draco in me during our RP sessions, and being a dear friend – I’m sorry for taking SO long to write this! And also for Alysun, who has been so very kind to me and first showed me that the pairing is worth it.

Severus Snape stared at his mirrored image. His turtle neck, ankle-long outer robes hid the buttoned shirt and fitting pants from view. All of the clothing was impeccably black, against which his long-fingered, deft hands stood out as a pair of twin translucent spiders. A few strands of his coal-black longish hair fell in front of his equally black but surprisingly bright eyes. On those eyes shone intelligence, stability and a general bitterness at the world. The Potions Master’s lips were as pale as the rest of his complexion, and compressed into a thin line.

Habits were important to Severus. One of them was to scowl and be acidly nasty to those around him.

Which was precisely why he was gazing onto his reflection. He looked not in the least bit different from his usual self. That was relieving, in a way, because he needed a feeling of normalcy to better carry out the task he had assigned to himself.

Many years of deadening honourable emotions made sure that they wouldn’t be shown, even if genuinely felt. All the same, he supposed his Pupil could use some sympathy.

He trusted his actions to speak for him. Words or feelings had never been Severus’ forte. Furthermore, Draco was a Malfoy. A proud creature, non-appreciative nor needing of sympathy. Not even when deprived from who he held as dearest.  
Snape knew Draco well enough to be aware of the bond between the youth and his father. Also, he knew that he would find comfort and support on his Mentor’s presence, however much of a silent one it was to be.

Normalcy.

It was common thing to speak to Draco, and there wasn’t anything all that unfamiliar about going over to Malfoy Manor.

But, in the name of Salazar, Severus hated Flooing...

-*-

Draco sat on a high-backed chair at the library of Malfoy Manor, head bent just so while his steel eyes scanned the pages of an ancient book for the notes he occasionally wrote, on his pointy handwriting, on a parchment just beside the leather-covered volume. He wasn’t supporting his chin on one hand and his carriage was straight as a ballerina’s; no less elegance could be expected from the Malfoy Heir.

Indeed, no casual observer would have been able to pick up any trace of the affliction weighting on his young, levelled-breathing chest.

The few who knew him well, however, would have distinguished the tension hanging on the expectant stillness of the very atmosphere. No soft breath or sigh would move the silvery hair that hid Draco’s feline features. His eyes stared, non-flickering, at the black letters. History of Magic wasn’t a subject that demanded one’s mind or heart to be into it. And that made Draco’s life much easier, him who spent a great deal of time shutting away the thoughts that would have interfered on the mechanical manner he was living life.

It was much harder to ignore it at home. At Hogwarts there were tests, people, Quidditch, whereas at Malfoy Manor there were only his parents for Draco to busy himself with. That in itself made the lack of one of them all the harder to live with. He did, nevertheless. Chin held high, voice a lazy drawl. He lived on, despite the absurdity that was the denial of his request for a weekly visit to his Father.

Azkaban was no place for a sixteen-year-old, with or without Dementors.

Narcissa respected his pain; she shared it with him. Draco found he could have gone to her, except on the times she came back from the Wizarding Prison. Then the pit of her hurt should be her own, and she was to be left undisturbed. The Malfoy offspring had, however, followed his nature on this critical situation. And that consisted on keeping to himself.

He was quite sure that it was what his Father would do. He knew also that, with a raised eyebrow and a sneer, Severus Snape would call it “denial”.

His Father and the Potions Master went a long way back; enough for Draco himself to be rather familiar with the man, on a such a degree that he would hear the soft voice reply to his own thoughts at times. It was curious how easily he could mentally make up whole sentences, considering that Severus was a man of few words. Even to the son of his best friend, whose talent on the Art that was his own and who Snape had spotted and tutored, he’d seldom deign worthy parting his lips.

Draco wasn’t anything if not versatile. Whilst he did drink avidly the interminable words his Father was to invariably say on any matter whatsoever, he could appreciate the exquisite expressiveness of his Mentor’s silences. He could actually read into it at times, which was as much of a natural flair as a practised skill.

A needed one, when it came to Severus Snape.

He admired the older, coal-haired man. The way he yielded bitter sarcasm and cynicism with enviable deftness, stubbornly stood firm on a world that didn’t really like him. One he didn’t seem to like much, either, but which he did bite back spectacularly. The very personification of Slytherin pride, with his swirling black robes and venomous tongue.

The Malfoy Heir had picked up more than a Potions inclination from Severus. His own relative quietness, tendency towards thoughtful immobility and reticence on what concerned his privacy were to be blamed on another that didn’t bear his family name. Beyond his knowledge, though, there was more. Draco’s own emotions obeyed a pattern similar to Snape’s: slow in building, fierce and irreducible in nature. Discreet in manner.

So it was that there was no visible hint of the feelings devouring his sanity, as he flipped the pages of the book. Neither there was much besides a raised eyebrow in terms of surprise when the Manor announced to him the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

Draco shut the book, laid his quill over the parchment he had been working on, and promptly got up to greet the newcomer.

His face wasn’t but blasé as he descended a flight of stairs, effortlessly graceful as every Malfoy before him. He willed the door of the Drawing Room open, so that there weren’t any halts on his route except the standing position he took within arm reach of the Potions Master. A curt nod and a polite, minute curving of the ends of his lips passed as greeting.

“Professor.”

His tone was respectful; it was never any other thing, towards the older man. He coolly took in the other’s appearance, and was secretly pleased to find that it matched his own lack of expression.

He knew better than to consider being unnerved at the seeming casualty of Snape’s presence and mindset. Instead he took it for what it was, a mask similar to his own. Whichever emotions lay beneath it, however, Draco couldn’t tell. Just yet.

“To what do I owe the pleasure...?”

His gaze was inquisitive without being reproving. Any sparkles of assumptions were deadened instantly. With Snape, it didn’t do to second-guess.

-*-

Severus had enough time to brush himself clean from the fireplace cinders before movement caught his eye. Beyond the opening mahogany doors, strolling towards him no doubt, came the Manor’s Heir. He was reminded of Lucius by the unimportant and yet so very significant action of using one’s Magic and Power to remove all obstacles on one’s way. Typical Malfoy, to be flaunting their claws.

“Impressive, Mr. Malfoy.”

He offered Draco a piece of his mind, his own features revealing nothing as he scanned the youth’s face. Nothing, not even the smug smile he would expect after baiting the boy’s pride with flattery. Sincere and small flattery, but any of it was as rare in him as the sincerity itself. He subconsciously straightened himself, responding to the silent power struggle going on between his aura and Draco’s, before continuing, his voice monotonous, not betraying the worry that started to invade him.

“As one of your father’s closest friends,” and your Guardian, although I don’t believe Lucius has ever mentioned it, “I am here to check on the state of his most precious belonging.”

His face continued perfectly stoic. Or at least he thought it did, until he became aware of the nearly imperceptible twisting of a corner of his mouth skywards as a subconscious reaction to the smile that took Draco’s face.

“Very well. Care for tea?”

It took Severus the. Very. Subtle. Arching. Of. An. Eyebrow.

“Or perhaps Dumbledore drenches you in it regularly enough.” Draco’s angelic smile morphed to an amused one, and he reached out with a slender hand to touch the older man’s upper arm. “We can have a seat, then.”

-*-

Draco took notice of the very perceptible lessening of the tension that had previously been building up inside him. Without part of that weight, it was possible to curl his lips upwards, maybe even attempt an arrogant flip of his hair.

He wisely kept only the subtle smile as he sat down on the dark brown leather sofa, gesturing for the older male to take a seat either by his side or on one of the matching, comfortable chairs. Severus chose the later and sat down, and for a moment Draco’s gaze was lost in the waving of the fabric of his clothes. Blinking, he lifted his chin for his eyes to meet noir ones.

“Is there anything in particular you want to know, Professor?” Or can we just chit-chat, it’s meaningless and I know you never say anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. Even when it’s a mere insult to Potter.

Snape just shook his head slowly. He was shocked. He had expected to find Draco on the edge, silent and with a stiffness of movement that told the Head of his House that he was about to snap if approached. He certainly hadn’t imagined he would be met by Malfoy facade, smiles and witty lines included. He had supposed something this big would shatter the shell of a fifteen-year-old.

Sixteen. Draco was sixteen, had turned so on the week before. August 12th.

“I think I owe you congratulations...” He had reached coming of age for a Slytherin, as well as surprised Severus Snape. For that alone, the older man added, “For exceeding expectations.”

That won him a grin from Draco.

“Since you mentioned that, Professor, I think there’s something you’ll like to see. I’ll go and fetch it, be back in a minute.”

Upon a wordless nod from Severus, the young Malfoy rose and walked out of the room. The dark-haired man was left to his thoughts. Sixteen. Draco was sixteen. Apart from “time really does fly by”, “I am not getting any younger myself” and a mental smack for not having sent a letter or anything of the sort on the occasion, it hit Severus’ mind that Draco had finally turned into the young man he had been treating him as for a few years.

He did, as many times before that, manage to stop that particular line of thought before it could be more than a flickering impression.

He much preferred to genuinely focus his interest on the parchment roll Draco slipped into his hands after brief moments of absence.

OWL results.

His coal eyes scanned the parchment, until he lifted his gaze for it to meet the youth, once again seating across him.

“I take it I’ll be seeing you regularly next year.”

His voice was soft, and his levelled eyebrows indicated a complete lack of surprise. He had long ago smelled Draco’s natural flair for the art he himself had mastered. He had subtly coached the boy, even: presented him with Potions-related books.

He hadn’t brought anything this year, aside from his Slytherin version of sympathy.

“Indeed...” his lips were barely parted as he drawled on. “Outstanding comes as a surprise, considering the poor DADA teaching Hogwarts has provided you with.”

His tone was calm, and his face perfectly stoic as he looked at the Malfoy Heir again.

Draco sneered elegantly at him.

“It’s nothing beyond ordinary, considering my last name.” A pause, and his youthful face acquired a serious expression. “The Malfoy lineage has dabbled into the Dark Arts for longer than some families out there claim to exist. However...”

The younger man hesitated for a mere instant, and Severus watched unmoving as the shadows of winged demons darkened his pointy face and fierce spirit. The blink of an eye and his voice was as firm and arrogant as ever.

“I’d give up all of my Os, if that would mean the lack of a motive to bury my Father in Azkaban.

Snape saw a crossroad before him. Whilst he didn’t want to encourage Draco’s deadening of emotions, he knew that any sort of weakness display would make the young man flinch away from his company later. Would make the boy feel ashamed and unworthy.

He silently, inwardly cursed every Malfoy’s obsession with perfection and control.

So it was that he remained silent for a few seconds, as if offering Draco the time to rebuild his facade. His gaze surveyed him, not reproving or concerned but patient instead. Understanding, in his own way.

When Draco breathed again, letting out air and looking composed, he spoke softly.

“I always knew Lucius would take it upon himself to teach you his own choice branch of Wizardry.” A pensive moment, then an afterthought. “Just as I did.”

-*-

Draco now understood fully why was it that his Father held Snape so highly. The man knew how to deal with a Malfoy.

With all of him, the blond youth was thankful for his presence and most of all the comforting silence. Relaxing visibly, he flashed the dark-haired man a smile.

“I hope I have proven myself worthy of the attention, then.” He leaned back and continued, his confidence restored and shining in his eyes. “Yes, my Father has taught me many a thing. Although from what I’ve heard,” a thin, teasing eyebrow was arched, “it’s nothing you would but roll your eyes at, Professor.”

-*-

A not so unspoken challenge. Severus entwined fingers and rested both hands on top of a crossed leg. He made his voice dry.

“How so?”

He was aware of Draco’s potential, and knew also that few other than Lucius would have been able to make full use of it.

He positively fed on the way Draco’s eyes glinted.

“For starters, I very much doubt you couldn’t Apparate at my age.”  
“Your assumption is correct. But here’s hope you can do more than vanish, Mr. Malfoy.”

Snape knew he had stung his Pupil when he detached his lean back from the sofa and sat up, his carriage erect, his longish silvery hair framing the cool offence on his delicate features. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the smirk that slowly spread over the thin lips.

“Here’s hope you’re not testing me. That you know I’m only talking because this is you.”

“I don’t think I have reasons to test you. Nevertheless, I appreciate the remark.”

-*-

Draco’s face could have fallen. He had felt so sure that Snape was testing him, trying to get his love for bragging to override his sense.

Then came his own words, at first. ‘It’s you’ sounded so stupidly... sentimental. Non-Slytherin. Un-Malfoy. Before he could regret or rephrase, however, the older man had spoken.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Draco lifted his chin cockily and let his pride answer for him.

“Who wouldn’t?” Now, since he was allowed to boast... “My main problem is that I can’t get much practice at Hogwarts. But I have reached a high level on wandless magic and become rather skilled at quick-damage spells.”

The Potions Master’s eyes burned on him, urging him to continue.

“I can cast all three Unforgivables for a reasonably long period of time, as well.”

“Interesting.”

-*-

The question Severus had in mind, he knew would render Draco confused. It was, however, a worry of his at the moment.

“What do you like best?”

That was it. If Draco were to be sincere, he’d find out just how similar the youth was to his Father.

He watched Draco ponder his answer and held the silvery stare as it met his own.

“Mind-playing. Actually, before all of it came along,” a pained pause, “I had been thinking about seeing you with it.”

-*-

He had wanted more of it. He wouldn’t tell Snape, but he had been experimenting with projecting his will into some of the younger years.

“According to my Father, you are a remarkable Occlument, Professor.”

“That, I am.”

He realised that the older man wouldn’t say more, and that he should be quiet as well. But he didn’t want to.

“He tutored me in the basics of it last summer, but we never got past the beginning. He said I have a talent, though.”

-*-

More of a bait than Severus could resist rising to.

“I don’t find that hard to believe.”

But I would very much like a taste of it, his eyes said. And he didn’t doubt for a second that Draco would be able to pick it up.

His expectations were met at the sight of a dazzling smile.

“I wouldn’t mind a second opinion, provided of course you would want to be the one to give it to me.”

“There’s no reason another should do it.”

The dark-haired man rose to his feet and offered Draco a hand up. Hardly had the youth got up when he let go of the slenderer fingers, not bothering that their warmth should contrast so much against his own coolness. He towered impressively a few feet away from the Malfoy Heir.

A glimpse of a sneer and he could distinctly feel Draco trying to pry into his mind. He was surprised. The boy was almost... violent at it. Talented. He darted shimmering control, his silver gaze fierce, once more exceeding Severus’ expectations.

Not like he was a challenge or even a match for his Tutor. As soon as the initial shock left him, the older Slytherin clenched his hands into fists inside his long sleeves. Firm, skilful and determined, he started to fight Draco off.

Their eyes met for a brief second before he forced his invasion on the blond’s mind.

Confusion and resistance greeted him, following him all the way. Many of the images faded before he could know what they were, and he had to concentrate hard in order to simply continue there.

He felt a distinct stab upon seeing a flash of Lucius’ face bloodied up and badly bruised, as if the man had just been beaten. His face was being held up by a hand that looked as if rotting underwater, too recognisable as a Dementor’s to be anything else.

Severus felt downright nauseated. However, he didn’t allow himself to think that this was Draco, that he was breaking into his Pupil. An unknown desire pushed him forward, and he searched frantically for a reflex of silver.

There was darkness, and then... Severus was utterly shocked at the vision that met him.

He could very well have been staring into a mirror. That was his face, his hair and oh, a hand of his. All of it with such an incredible level of detail that could pass as a memory snapshot, weren’t it for the fact that he had never kissed Draco.

Which was precisely what he was doing on the moment frozen in the youth’s mind. An alluring, passionate kiss.

Severus felt himself be hurled backwards. His mind retreated and he was positive he heard a soft sigh before being flung, his feet leaving the ground for his arse to hit it seconds later.

-*-

The young Malfoy didn’t move a muscle. He remained on his knees, head and shoulders lowered, the blond hair a silvery curtain for his face. There was no reason to brush it away, not when it was mercifully and conveniently shielding from view the very elusive blush that tinged his high cheekbones.

Draco was no longer porcelain: no longer pale, no longer cool. He was aflame with the shame and something else that shouldn’t have been.

He never saw the blood dripping from the cut to his lower lip, for biting it had long since stopped to be a conscious action.

“If I may offer you a hand up, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco looked up, disbelieving. He was met by the sight of a perfectly calm Severus Snape, whose hair was perhaps a bit ruffled. The indecipherable gaze was as firm as the pale hand held out.

He accepted the aid, and got to his feet with an ease of movement that was nearly feline. The nervousness had given way to an eerie fascination for the control that the older man seemed to have over himself and the downright awkward and embarrassing situation.

He was somewhat startled when Severus spoke again.

“Your Father was, as usual, correct. You do have a talent, Draco...” a minute pause, and then the controlled voice softened, almost imperceptibly so. “Especially in regards to projecting your will, however secretly, into another’s heart.”

Sensible words, and not even their tone gave off more than subtle emotion. But what else could be expected from Severus Snape?

The use of his birthname surprised Draco. It had been too long since the dark haired man had last addressed him as anything other than his Father’s son. All the more unexpected, however, was to hear those thin lips and slitting tongue, normally dedicated to the most acid of cynicism, utter such a word as ‘heart’.

Draco smiled an uncertain smile, thrilled at this newfound power, that of being a soft spot of Severus Snape. Long since had he been the man’s Pupil and even protégé in some regards but this, this was new.

“You flatter me, Professor.”

With the boldness that was a sacred trait of Youth and the Malfoy name, he reached out to delicately remove the strands of raven hair from the Teacher’s eyes, tucking them behind his ear. His chest was filled with warmth and excitement anew when the older man didn’t bat his hand away or flinch from his touch.

He had not dared to touch that man since he had grown enough to have minimum sense. Which did not mean, in any way, that he hadn’t longed to do so.

He still maintained enough of his mind not to make it linger, but his eyes stared into the other man’s. Inquiring, daring, wanting.

“There is blood.”

Draco managed, with supreme effort, to keep his eye from widening as Snape brought his own pale and long fingers to his chin.

“On your mouth.”

There wasn’t any change on the Potions Master’s face as he brushed fingertips against the small cut to the youth’s bottom lip. And that angered Draco somewhat. He had always been able to cause impact. Around him, everyone was either too dazzled or too infuriated to be blasé. His eyes searched Severus’ for a reaction, as he responded to the gentle touch.

-*-

Reaching out to touch Draco was something so unnatural in itself that Severus had almost hesitated. The boy’s beauty was ethereal, and at times it was as though its angelic traits mocked Snape by making Draco unreachable. The youth was effortlessly sensuous in his glittery manner, his flickering smile, the tempting tip of a pinkish tongue.

A wet tongue that was currently wrapped around Severus’ sensitised fingertips, dragging him back from his thoughts to the harsh reality where he had the beginning of an erection stinging his groin. He shut his mouth, for his thin lips had parted by themselves in what might have been a mute gasp. Draco’s eyes were shining on him, urging him.

“You look very much like a whore, Draco.”

His tone was dry as he tried t rebuild his walls, all of them shaken by the vision of that exquisite and wanting youth.

The only answer he got was narrowing of the Malfoy’s eyes and a vicious, sharp bite to his fingers.

-*-

Draco would NOT be teased, offered the sight of reciprocity only to have it all taken back. He moved his head backwards, releasing the man’s now bleeding fingers. He smirked, and laid a hand flat against Snape’s chest.

“I am no whore, Professor...” His fingers trailed down, feeling at the muscles beneath the cloth, and scratched their way down to grab firm ahold of the older man’s groin. “But you surely feel in need of one right now. Enough, perhaps,” his thumb expertly rubbed against the head of the man’s member, “to take advantage of a student’s crush.”

He got a hiss by means of answer.

“Casual is beneath us both.”

-*-

He knew it to be treason. He was a friend of the boy’s father. At a situation like the current one, what Lucius did not need was to learn that there was someone intent on bedding his darling son.

Someone older than the youth. Someone who would not help continuing the Malfoy lineage.  
Someone him, Lucius, trusted.

On the Manor itself, no less.

...

Lucius would hardly be thrilled about the union of his son and Severus.

  


Not everything was about Lucius.

Severus hoped he’d never, ever have to tell Draco that. He was sure the Malfoy Heir would not go against his Father’s wishes no matter what.

It did not take much to know that Lucius didn’t think anyone, anyone at all, was good enough for his son. On the other hand, he was known to make everything in his power to see Draco smile.

Severus was partially guilty of that, too. And that was why he tried even harder to keep the attitude, and more than that, to believe his own words.

He had been clenching his jaw ever since Draco’s hand had first been laid on his person. His body seemed willing to side with the Malfoy Heir in this, to want the contact as well, crave it almost.

To his reply, a thin, blond eyebrow was raised.

“Oh why, my mistake. Didn’t think you the type who goes for feeling. But you’re a lucky man.” Draco grinned, and took a step closer, his presence and very scent now intoxicating as he draped his free arm around the Tutor’s shoulders. His breath was warm against Severus’ lips. “I can provide you with that as well.”

Tender, maddening brush of the tip of his aristocratic nose against the older man’s parted lips.

Automatically almost, Severus reached out to cup his blond head and capture his lips in a tantalising kiss, his longish nails digging into Draco’s scalp.

Then it was the wonder of how easily Draco’s body became languid to melt into his own, how those lips parted just so, invitingly.

The dark haired man slipped his tongue between them, and the appendage was met by momentarily suction, after which it proceeded to explore and claim each crevice of the boy’s mouth as his own. A playful tongue greeted it own and they wrestled; the youth purred as he tugged lightly on Severus’ hair.

When they broke the kiss, the Potions Master had hardened considerably, mainly as a consequence of the youthful body and aroused groin rubbing against his own. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in amusement at the light flush on Draco’s high cheekbones.

Draco offered the older man a glorious smile.

“How do you like the other uses of my silver tongue, Professor?”

“It cannot be said that they don’t please me.”

A hand was laid on the slenderer right shoulder, and Severus’ face acquired a serious expression.

“As a matter of fact, these new settings are very much to my liking. My only concern is that they aren’t but fruit of the horrid current circumstances.”

He nearly regretted speaking, for all light faded instantly from Draco’s face. Subconsciously, he strengthened his hold on the younger man’s head, which the blond shook.

“This is older. I just had never had opportunity or the guts to share.”

Casually, childishly almost, he rested his head on the older man’s chest. To which Severus uttered no protest, but instead brought a reassuring hand to the small of his back.  
A weak laugh, then a saddened voice.

“I just have the worst timing, don’t I, Professor?”

The title stung. It pushed Severus back to the role he had created for himself, that of Tutor. When he wanted to be more, knew that Draco desired him to be so much more. None of that was needed, now. This was a time for silent comfort. His Pupil didn’t need yet another dagger on his soul. Severus knew that Lucius’ imprisonment was taking its tool on the youth.

“This is supposed to be a time for great misery. If it falls to me the power to make you joyous, I will not deny it. The question is, now that the spur of the moment is gone, what do you want to do, Draco?”

His words were thoughtful and wise. And he caught himself hating himself for just that.

His eyes were magnetically drawn when the youth lifted his silvery gaze, seeking.

“I want you. Not as a replacement or something to keep me distraught, but simply because one of my pillars has been shaken and has a crack to it. Therefore, I seek support on the other one left.”

His pale hand trembled, transpiring frailty, as he gripped onto Severus’ outer robes. And then he smiled tenderly, and cocked his head to the side in a coquettish manner.

“In other words, I would very much like to cuddle.”

-*-

Severus’ expression did not alter in the least.

Wait.

A thin eyebrow was raised...

For a second, Draco feared rejection. He had exposed weakness, and the Professor was like his Father and himself on that respect. Yet, it had been a bold move. He had gained the element of surprise, and that was something to consider, with Snape.

Draco knew himself to be most adorable when demanding, irresistible when daring, just as every Malfoy before him. For all that he leaned up, the tip of his nose being brushed against the strands of raven hair, his breath tickling at the curve of the older man’s neck as he purred.

Long arms wrapped around him, cloaking him in barely touchy acceptance and protection.

The youth smiled smugly to himself. Severus wasn’t the hugging type. But now it seemed right to him that the Professor should make of his touch and affection privileges, just so that he could be the one to obtain them. And Snape was quite the achievement...

Draco was the one to pull back. As a response to the inquiring expression on his Mentor’s eyes, he offered a bright smile while his hand found Snape’s and he pulled softly.

“Come.”

A whisper as he took a step back, heading towards the chair that the older man had occupied previously. If asked, Draco wouldn’t be able to explain why did he find it necessary to use a low voice.

It was just... almost as if neither himself nor Severus were too sure about what they were doing.

He gently pushed at Snape’s torso, indicating that the man could sit. As soon as the older male agreed to his wordless request, Draco took a place he had never before dared to: right cheek pressed against Severus’ chest, left hand resting against it as well, in quiet stillness as he and the other man shared warmth and he found peace on the sanctuary of his Tutor’s lap.

Ah, but he could not ignore the erection just bellow him, even less when he too had a hard-on. Timidly, he brought his lips for a tentative kiss to the older man’s chin. Snape lowered his head and their eyes met for a moment, before the Professor leaned down to put his own lips at service, nipping his way on Draco’s ear.

A low groan was caught on his throat, retaining control was already an instinct. But he did tilt his head back and brought a hand for a hesitant but deliciously daring hold of the older man’s head. It seemed as though all of his sensitiveness had spiralled to the inches of skin that his Professor was brushing lips against.

Everything vanished and all of a sudden there was only that long-fingered hand sneaking under the waistband of his pants. It took all of Draco not to squirm in sublime anticipation, but he didn’t have much of a choice when his own hand tightened itself into a fist, in a soft pull at the raven hair beneath his fingers. And he certainly couldn’t hold back the loud gasp when there was rubbing of fingertips against his arsehole.

Panting like a bitch in the heat. How so very...

Ooohh.

Fuck decorum.

With hurried deftness, he reached to unbutton Snape’s turtle neck robes with one hand as he ran the other one over the man’s chest, feeling at his torso underneath the clothing and then at his side.

He smiled in private accomplishment when the mouth that was now on his collarbone began to suck. He couldn’t but picture the talented lips on another, lower part of himself and that very thought, that inversion of roles as enough to assure the hardness that had began to sting between his legs.

He slid his hands under Severus’ robes, already referring to him by his birthname in a low hiss as one finger entered him. He pinched the Professor’s nipples, sinking thumbnails on the sensitive flesh.

Struggling to regain some of his reason, Draco was all but so very aware of the finger going in circles inside him. He shifted positions, straddling the older man as he roughly pulled the black robes open, leaning down to trace the dark area around a nipple with his tongue before digging teeth onto him, sucking fiercely as his hands travelled down the other male’s sides, going around his waist and up his back, scratching up to his shoulder blades.

Snape growled as an erect member was rubbed against his own, inwardly appreciating Draco’s change of position and mood, being nearly a victim of pleasure overload by the youth’s skilled ways to enter the play.

His back arched towards the arousing pain that teeth and fingernails alike were bringing him, and he brought his free hand to the side clasp of his pants. His cock twitched, craving touch, wanting Draco’s twirling tongue that was around his nipple, needing the virginal tightness that clamped around his index finger.

Sensitised all over, he felt at the warm inner walls of the boy. He sought Draco’s face with a feral smirk on his lips as he located the pleasure-bringing gland.

The Malfoy looked alluringly ravishing during the mewled moan he let out, all composure aside, rocking back against the finger, so very obviously enjoying it.

Severus’ member leaked, and he pushed a second finger inside, ramming both appendages against Draco’s prostrate.

Then there were nails on his scalp and fingertips brushing all over his body, Draco’s heavy breathing close to his ear as the youth nuzzled against the curve of his neck, exhaling wanton.  
The older man couldn’t but groan right back when pale fingers curled around his aching erection, squeezing it.

“Want me.”

A hot murmur as he rolled Snape’s balls against one another, pressing his youthful body and hardened groin against the other man’s.

And Severus wanted everything. The softness, the boldness, the droplets of pain, the tightness.

Draco whimpered a loud protest as the fingers were removed, but lifted himself on his knees to aid the Professor in the much needed task of lowering the pants of the both of them. His own erection was engulfed by cool air, momentarily instilling some sense into him and allowing him to fully enjoy his triumph when he sat back, expertly putting Snape’s member against his puckered hole, in a contact that wasn’t but teasing.

Draco smiled gloriously as he rested an aristocratic hand over the chest of the panting man beneath him. But he gladly handed his dominion when Severus pulled his face down for an imperious, demanding kiss.

The youth’s own arousal demanded attention, and he brought a hand to it, wrapping fingers around himself and gasping his relief against the Professor’s lips. He sucked at the man’s tongue in pleased gratification as fingers longer than his own took hold of his cock.

Snape pulled back to inhale through parted lips, scratching the boy’s tongue with his teeth as it left his mouth.

“Lube.” He breathed harshly, his face flushed.

His thumb rubbed against the head of Draco’s prick.

For the second time that evening, he was pleasantly surprised by the Malfoy’s soft laughter. And soon enough there were hungry silvery eyes on him, starved for a reaction as the moisty substance was applied all over his erection.

He wanted to thrust into that hand.

Instead two of his own fingers were wet with the lubricant and he slipped them inside the youth’s crevice, moving them in circles, parting them, preparing Draco to do what both of them wanted badly.

The moan the younger male left out made Severus’ nipples harden, and he was languidly tense as Draco delicately took hold of both his hands to place them around his own slender waist. He regarded the younger man, drunk in arousal and euphoria as his desire positioned himself, his tight arsehole just above Severus’ throbbing member. He was rendered still and hypnotised by the beauty of the Malfoy’s gentle control, and all of a sudden the whole situation was enveloped in a vaporous curtain to him.

A hand cupped Draco’s blond head when he leaned down to trace Severus’ lips with his tongue.

“Want me...” He whispered against the wet appendage.

It was a command and a plea all in one. And when Draco rested his sweaty forehead against the Professor’s...

Severus entered him, the hand on his waist sliding to the small of the boy’s back, keeping him in place for the mind-blowing penetration.

Draco’s fingernails marked crescent moons on the older male’s pale chest.

Severus growled throatily in his dark high, and the deep tone was mirrored one octave above by the curt, breathy little mewls Draco was letting out as the older man pushed himself all the way in. The youth bit at his lower lip, moving his hips, feeling his arse pound in a protest to the invasion he welcomed with the rest of him.

He yanked hard at Snape’s hair when attention was granted to his needing member, and groaned his appreciation. He pulled back only to thrust into Severus’ hand and slam himself against the Professor’s hardness.

“Oh...”

A gasp, and Severus intensified the stroking to the blond’s member, a vague attempt to offer Draco something of the likes of the exquisite clamping his muscles were executing on the man’s cock.

Fingernails dug on his scrotum and for a moment Snape was lost in the minute friction of fingertips against his balls, the small and wanting kisses Draco was bestowing all over his face.

“Draco...”

He was squeezing the youth’s arousal, buried balls deep inside him, eyes closed in rapture as he bucked upwards. His lips sought Draco’s and there was urgency poured in that kiss; he expertly added a twist to the end of each stroke to his pupil’s prick, needing the youth to moan for some motive beyond all reason.

He gasped when Draco moved on top of him, swinging his hips, making Severus’ member exit him only to thrust in the grasp around his own arousal, consequently having the older male inside himself again. He held the Malfoy’s tongue between pursed lips, teasing at it with his teeth as he too moved, setting a rhythm to them, scratching Draco’s cock, learning of each vein and bump of the other male’s.

Draco was beautiful.

There were hands on him as well, fingertips expertly handling his testicles and he was tugging at Draco’s hair for that brand of pleasure, losing himself each time he felt the muscles clamp at his invading member. Eyes closed and breathing uneven, he kissed a line along Draco’s jawbone, coming to nip at his earlobe at the end and being so very pleased at the gasped moan. His arousal was dripping, its juices and the lubricant making the penetration hurt Draco less each time. He compensated it with quickening his pace, and also because he needed it, relief shone at him, a mere breath away.

He clung onto Draco, sinking teeth on his shoulder.

Of the searing pain of the penetration, there weren’t but pale ghosts left as Draco was enveloped in the blinding pleasure the stroking to his member and the older man’s cock inside himself were bringing him. And he knew how to make the best of it, as well as express his contentment with his perfect body, back arched in a smooth curve as he held onto Severus, kissing the man for ramming hard inside him, for moaning his own high, for bloody needing him as it was, as they carved nails onto each other and he mauled the man’s testicles.

He was Malfoy and as such purred at the attention to his earlobe, basking in the obvious care, tilting his head to the side just so, becoming soft for just a moment before being coaxed back into his frantic need for culmination by the evident fastening of Severus’ thrusts.

He fairly yelled out his anal pleasure as he ran his hand all the way up Severus, delighting at the taunted muscles that were covered in sweat, evilly pinching a nipple and loving it when the other man growled at him.

He delivered a quick peck to Severus’ lips just for that.

“Speak to me.”

A whisper as much as a breath, a desire. And he leaned down, licking at the older man’s jugular, scratching canines against it menacingly.

Clinging onto his Professor, his own member leaking.

And now that.

Severus’ mind had become blurry not long ago, but it hadn’t mattered all that much. Until now. What could he... he had never been a man of words.

The fact that he was so very near culmination did not help his eloquence any.

Therefore, he groaned against Draco’s shoulder, nails ranking thin red lines on the younger man’s arousal as he bucked inside, his senses being stolen, and he just needed Draco...

His voice was throaty.

“Ooh...”

That was it, wasn’t it?

“Draco…”

Draco’s lips were still against his in a passionate kiss when he came, his seed being spilled against the injured inner walls of the loving youth wrapped around him in every way possible.

Severus’ vision was foggy but he did manage to capture a glimpse of the exquisite and so very precious view that was Draco during orgasm when ejaculate hit his stomach. His hand kept stroking the younger male’s erection, making sure he’d empty, only half-aware of what he was doing and pleasantly inebriated in his own high.

He pulled himself out, now flaccid, and looked up at the young man still sitting atop him. Wordlessly, Draco brushed a strand of sweaty hair behind his ear before leaning in to nip at it.

“Shh.”

Severus embraced the youth, welcoming him, that proximity, and indescribably glad at Draco’s acceptance of him not being in the least bit vocal. He ran hands all over the younger male, in a caress that was also possessive, acknowledging of his newest lover.

“Will you stay the night?”

Casual. Draco’s voice or expression did not betray anything, not even as he sat naked on top of his Mentor, breath still to become levelled, smelling of sex and sweaty all over.

Effortlessly elegant.

Snape straightened himself and searched Draco’s eyes before answering.

“We both know I can’t.”

There were no other words, just a small nod before the younger Slytherin got up and silently summoned their pants, then handed his Teacher’s before bending down to put his own in.

He hadn’t expected any different from Snape, really. He was aware that there were limits, so many of them, all the time and to everything. To all things but pain.

As composed himself, his face was again a mask of marble. With Draco the coolness always started from the outside, so that a volcano core would remain within. It was an art not to kill his feelings nor live them, but to withstand middle-ground.

Which was required of him so often. Hence his small smile as he regarded the older man, once again clothed in black all the way up to his neck.

“Very well then. I shall return to my student duties.”

He turned on his heels, ready to leave. The Professor knew the way out, didn’t need a guide to the Floo. Furthermore, he was angry, although his voice did not drip it. Angry that the older man could treat it like that, treat him like that. Unimportant.

Draco was notoriously quick to take offence.

A hand was laid on his shoulder. His eyes searched the Professor’s, and for some time the both of them were silent.

“It’s... complicated.”

Severus had never been good with words. But he did mean them. Everything, their own selves, the situation... was just so complicated.

Draco just kept looking at him, as if expectant. He removed his hand, clumsy and awkward in manner but not in movement.

“We’ll see each other soon.”

Then there was sudden brightening up of the youth’s expression, and Severus found himself offering a shadow of a smile in return to the luminous grin Draco was presenting him with. A flicker of silver, and a pale hand ran fingers through the older man’s hair affectionately; the Malfoy stood on the tips of his toes and gazed directly into Snape’s eyes.

“I look forward to that,” a playful twinkle of yes, “Sir.”

Before Severus could protest, there were soft and warm lips upon his own. He missed Draco when the younger man backed away, and a curt nod was all the response he gave to the wave of hand he got before his Pupil left the room.

-*-

Draco watched the Professor’s retreating back, a thin smile lingering on his lips. Unexpected, the whole of it. Did not, at any rate, make up for the lack of his Father; but that had never been the intention, in the first place. It was relieving in a small way that things would work out on other areas of his life. Unsurprising, though, that the sort of attention he had wanted from the Potions Master should be granted to him now that he had put a stop on his process of seeking it.

Maybe that was the very reason why he had finally got it, he pondered.

He could have shrugged then, and that very thought made him shake his head slightly, an inward amused chuckle and a subtle smile on his lips. He was partly Severus’. And that had just been confirmed in a sublime way.

He had not lied, he did look forward to their next meeting. He did know it was bound to be awkward, and that it would invariably fall to him to break the tension with a well-placed smirk, a few witty lines and perhaps a long-fingered hand in a place it shouldn’t be but where they both very much liked it.

Peace surrounded Draco on his way to his room. His heart was still restless and his soul tormented by his Father’s condition. But now there was one more source of strength to him, and he needed all he could gather. There was no shame in admitting that, as long as it went unspoken, no more than a grateful glance by means of thanking Severus’ ever silent, soothing, constant presence.


End file.
